


Bite your tongue and hold your breath

by unmeiboy



Category: Johnny's Entertainment, Kis-My-Ft2 (Band)
Genre: Established Relationship, Exhibitionism, Light Bondage, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-16
Updated: 2016-03-16
Packaged: 2018-05-27 02:57:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6266767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unmeiboy/pseuds/unmeiboy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nikaido wishes Senga would be more subtle. Kitayama disagrees.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bite your tongue and hold your breath

Nikaido is slumped against Senga in a chair, Senga behind his back, his legs on each side of him; arms around his waist and hands joined on Nikaido's stomach. The rest of the members are still active, holding three conversations at the same time and quite loudly at that, but Nikaido doesn't listen. He is drunk enough that he's sleepy, and now he's just enjoying Senga's calm breaths against the back of his neck.  
“Nika,” Senga whispers, squirms a little behind him and Nikaido doesn't understand why until he continues. “I want to tie you up.”  
“What?” He means it as a question, because it's really sudden, but Senga seems to think that he didn't catch it. He leans closer, lips so close to his ear that Nikaido thinks he feels them moving against his hair.  
“I want to tie you up and fuck you,” he elaborates, and Nikaido feels something jump inside him at the direct words. To make it even clearer Senga separates his hands, reaches for Nikaido's wrists and grips them tightly.  
“The others are here,” Nikaido hisses to remind him, but Senga's hands only tighten further around his wrists and Nikaido wants to slap himself because he _knows_ Senga has exhibitionist tendencies.  
“You'd look so good beneath me,” Senga shifts his hands, takes both of Nikaido's wrists in one, strong hand, puts the other on his stomach to pull him even closer. “Those long legs spread and your hands tied down.” He rubs himself discreetly against Nikaido's back and while Nikaido doesn't protest, he stiffens a little and lets his eyes sweep over the room; he freezes as he realizes Kitayama clearly is eyeing them from across the room, feels his cheeks heating.  
“Kenpi,” he warns, but Senga kind of purrs against his neck and the hand on his stomach spreads its fingers towards the hem of his pants.  
“Mm, I want to touch you.” Kitayama is pretending to be involved in the conversation, but Nikaido knows where his mind is.  
“Not here,” he rushes to say, and even though Senga does respect that, he curses at himself because why did he have to end up in the group that has both exhibitionists and voyeurs. “Later.” Maybe Senga settles for that, because he doesn't let his hands wander even after he lets go of Nikaido's wrists; he does tilt his head and nip softly on the skin of Nikaido's neck instead, but that's okay. Nothing the members haven't seen before. Only now he's so aware of the subtle attention from the opposite side of the room that it makes his skin prickle with a sensation he can't quite put his finger on.  
“Is anyone watching?” Senga mumbles; Nikaido turns his head to be able to answer in the same low volume but doesn't get the chance to, because Senga is on his, kissing him slowly, fingers stroking up and down the insides of his wrists in a way that he wouldn't bat an eye at if it wasn't for how he had held them before.  
“Mm.” He hopes Senga understands that he's meaning to reply to the question; it could as well be a toned-down moan, but he wouldn't normally moan from only kisses and soft touches.  
“Kitamitsu?” This time Senga whispers, pulling back to hide the motion of his lips against Nikaido's jawline and he nods to confirm. “Thought so.”  
“Get a room, you two!” Tamamori hollers at them, lowers his voice a little as he continues, “... Just not my room.”  
“Are you saying you want us to leave?” Nikaido jokes. Tamamori would never send them out of his apartment, and even Senga is laughing behind him when Tamamori makes a face at the accusation.

“Would you let me?” Senga says then, so out of nowhere that Nikaido at first doesn't understand what he's supposed to let him do. “I really want to.” He rubs against Nikaido's backside again, as subtly as before, and Nikaido feels his ears burning hot when he notices that Senga is a little more excited about than his voice gives away. He accidentally meets Kitayama's eyes again, sees on the smirk he's wearing that he knows exactly what's going on and that he would very much like to continue watching.  
“Only if we're leaving before you get any harder than that,” he hisses back, and Senga squeezes his waist with one hand as if to release his arousal without being obvious; it doesn't help that it in turn makes Nikaido's nerves stir.  
“Let's go then.” Senga places a last peck on his neck, then Nikaido untangles himself and gets out of the chair, hears Senga follow him towards the door, only pausing to tell the others that they are leaving, after all.

“You're disappointed,” Fujigaya mumbles, a smug look on his face. He knows that the unaffected expression Kitayama is wearing isn't for real, that he's just hiding the real thing. He can see it in his eyes when their gazes meet, even though Kitayama rolls his them at first. The arousal.  
“I'm not,” he smiles back.  
“You are. If you could choose, you'd be jerking off watching them fucking right now. Kento would look good taking it, don't you think?”  
“Nah, Nika is taking it tonight.” Kitayama's voice is unchanged, almost sounds uninterested. Which is a huge lie, Fujigaya knows it, and he's going to use it.  
“See, you _are_ disappointed. I bet you wonder what he sounds like.” He leans closer, until his warms breaths hit Kitayama's ear as he speaks. “Of course you do. You want to watch him naked and willing, legs spread and Kento between them.” Fujigaya pauses, leans in to place the last word right against Kitayama's earlobe. “Creep.”  
“Who's the creep? I'm not the one using two friends to dirty talk a third friend. Colleagues, even. Creep.”

Fujigaya puts his hand on Kitayama's thigh; normally he would have pushed it away, but he's drunk and doesn't care about boundaries as much, plus his body is craving contact, be it his own or Fujigaya Taisuke's. What he does care a little about is the gasp he lets out when said hand slides up the inside of his thigh, fast, strokes quickly right across his crotch.  
“Damn, I didn't think it'd be that bad,” he smirks as he removes his hand. “You're _hard_.”  
“Partly your fault, so do something about it or leave me alone.” He glares now, eyes dark, and Fujigaya isn't scared to admit that he's pretty hot like that. Doesn't make him want to sleep with him, though.  
“Maybe I will do something about it.” He also isn't scared to hint at things, and hopes Kitayama won't wish for too much.

Nikaido is already on Senga's bed when a low buzzing is heard over the sounds of their lips coming together.  
“Leave it,” Nikaido asks, but knows that if it's this late in the night it can only be the members or perhaps a panicking manager, and knows that they should at least check the screen; Senga is already pulling away despite his protests.  
“It's Gaya,” he mumbles, lowers a hand to his belt and starts working it open while he touches the screen to answer. “What?” Nikaido doesn't know what to do with himself, it's kind of hot that Senga is slowly undressing while talking, like he doesn't care. He does, of course, but he must have enough alcohol in his body to act before thinking, and it might be turning Nikaido on to watch it.

Then he gestures for Nikaido to take his shirt off; when it has been tossed to the floor he hands his phone to him.  
“Gaya wants to talk to you.” That's all he has to say, apparently, shoves his own pants down but leaves his underwear on. Nikaido is glad he doesn't have to have Senga naked in front of him while he has Fujigaya's voice in his ear.  
“Hi?” he tries, heart beating fast while he waits for a reply and it's only partly because this situation makes him feel nervous.  
“Hi Nika,” Fujigaya's voice is soft as usual, but low like he's trying to hide their conversation. “I'm not the one wanting to interrupt.”  
“What?” That doesn't make sense. Also, Senga has a hand flat against his chest.  
“Mitsu.” A single word, a name, and then everything does make sense. “He's got a problem in his pants, if you know what I mean.”  
“I've got a problem in my ear, maybe my problem could solve his,” Nikaido hisses, keeps his gasp down when Senga's fingertips reach his nipple. When Senga hushes him, it's not because of that sound, but what he's saying.  
“I can't, because he wants to be with you. He won't touch, of course,” Fujigaya has his charm fully on and Nikaido tries to denies that it's working, “only himself. Would you want to see that?”

The image in his mind is not at all unpleasant, Kitayama with his shirt hiked up and his cock sticking out of his pants, one hand working it up and down at a steady pace, the other under his shirt playing with a nipple. His eyes steady on Nikaido and Senga.  
“I know what he wants to see,” Fujigaya continues. “Your pretty legs wide apart and Kento above you. That's how it'll be, won't it?” The hand massaging him through his pants isn't helping Nikaido's rational thinking, but he manages to stay silent.  
“It'll be more than that tonight,” Senga whispers next to the phone, lips brushing Nikaido's cheek before they move to the side to kiss him. Nikaido lets him, and Fujigaya probably hears them but it doesn't seem to stop his talking.  
“Yeah? What is he going to do to you, Nika? Tell me.”

Fujigaya sticks his head inside the room, catches Kitayama's eyes within a second and waves him out onto Tamamori's balcony. He doesn't hang up, only leans back towards the railing, eyes still on Kitayama who's glaring at him like that again.  
“I think you'll have to be more specific,” he says into his phone. “What is he tying up? Your arms? Your legs?”  
“Arms,” Kitayama mumbles as he takes a step forward, and Fujigaya nods towards him when he hears the same from Nikaido.  
“That's hot,” he adds, even though he's not exactly imagining them. “He'd jerk himself so fast to that, don't you think?”  
“I wouldn't,” and now Fujigaya is almost afraid he might get jumped (although in the nice way), “I would go slow, because I bet Nika's moans are gorgeous and I wouldn't want to be done already when he's coming.”  
“Did you hear that, Nika?” Fujigaya looks away from Kitayama as he speaks. “Would you really mind him watching?”  
“Gaya stop it, he's not up for it and it's not a problem, you're only making it worse.” Kitayama does sound slightly irritated, and Fujigaya is about to hang up since while he does like to tease, he doesn't want to upset any of the members. But then there's an actual moan in his ear, a distant, wet sound, and sudden words that he hadn't expected. “Yeah,” he finishes, then hangs up, and he's actually a little confused when he looks back at Kitayama. “The door is unlocked, hurry up.” He repeats what Nikaido had breathed into the phone, and for a few seconds Kitayama stares back at him, then turns around and leaves in the blink of an eye. When Fujigaya comes back into the living room, he's already gone.

Kitayama is as silent as he possible can as he enters, locks the front door, takes off his shoes and heads towards Senga's bedroom. The soft, wet rhythmical sound he hears even before he gets to the room turns out to be exactly what he thought it would be. He stops by the door and just watches as Senga opens his mouth up further, takes Nikaido's cock as far as it seems he can, keeps bobbing his head and Nikaido's heavy breaths fill the air. They're both naked.  
“Hi,” he breaks into the atmosphere; Nikaido's head turns towards him quickly, but Senga doesn't stop and it's visible on Nikaido's conflicted face how good it feels. For a moment it looks like he's struggling with something, and then Kitayama sees that his wrists are already tied to the frame of the bed. Then Senga pulls away and whispers something that Kitayama can't catch, something that Nikaido groans at like it's annoying, before he gasps as Senga goes back to work.  
“Chair,” he gets out, and Kitayama closes the door, takes the few steps to the chair he assumes Nikaido was talking about because it's the only one in the room and it's very conveniently placed.

It feels surreal to get to watch this, but he's not going to complain, not at all. He just sits down in the chair, spreads his legs just a little as he gets comfortable, one hand over the button of his jeans. On the bed Nikaido's hips are rocking toward Senga's mouth, his hands squeezing tight, then releasing, over and over, like his body is used to touching and keeps trying to do so.  
“Kenpi,” he whines, and that seems to be Senga's cue to stop. Instead he pushes one of Nikaido's legs up, makes him bend it so that his foot is flat against the mattress, and then he fumbles with an item that Kitayama didn't notice when he entered. It's not like he doesn't understand, though, and moves his chair a little to get a better angle as Senga finishes coating his fingers with lubrication. It makes a scraping sound as it moves over the floor and Nikaido's attention turns to him, struggling to lift his head enough to see Kitayama properly. And just as their eyes meet Senga pushes a finger inside him; Nikaido draws a sharp breath, like he's feeling surprised and confused and a little awkward, but then he lets his head fall back down with a quiet moan as Senga starts moving his finger. His legs spread a little further, just enough that it might not be a conscious motion, and as his body opens up enough for a second finger, Kitayama can't keep his hands off himself any longer.

He has only just popped the button to his jeans when he hears words from the bed.  
“Don't hold back,” Senga is whispering against one of Nikaido's hip bones, and Kitayama feels like nothing is more important than getting a hand in his pants. The zipper goes down automatically when he slides one down his underwear, considers teasing himself a little before he gets real but then Nikaido moans, just a little louder and he looks up to see Senga having increased the pace and Nikaido moving back against the fingers, and he wraps his own fingers around his erection with no hesitation left in his body. The groan he lets out is lower than Nikaido's little noises, but he sees that Senga gets affected by it, leaning even further down, lips latching onto Nikaido's skin as his hips rock against thin air.

When he pulls back it's to push a third finger inside Nikaido, and it's goes smooth enough considering how tense his legs look, how his arms still won't stay still. And how hard he is, because he sees his cock again now that Senga has leaned back, sees it twitching when Senga shifts on the bed; Kitayama's does the same in his hand, but more in response to how turned on Nikaido is.  
“Told you you would look good,” Senga mumbles, and Kitayama agrees in silence, a little amused by how Nikaido doesn't seem to think the same thing, and that he doesn't seem to care either, because all he does is gasp and move back onto Senga's fingers as best as he can. “I really want to fuck you.”

What he says is so unexpected that Kitayama squeezes his hand tight around himself, then has to let go, takes his hand all the way out of his pants and forces it onto his thigh instead. He had seen how Senga had gripped Nikaido's wrists, understood that there was no way he doesn't have a dominant side, but hearing him talk like that is a whole different thing. It's their group baby and he's talking like a porn star, it's hot as fuck and even more so when Nikaido spreads his legs, this time definitely on purpose.  
“You should,” he hears himself say, wants to bite his tongue off when he realizes what he's done because he had decided not to interfere, to just watch, and there he is encouraging Senga to things it's already decided he's going to do.  
But Senga picks up on it. “Hear that, Nika?” He pulls his fingers away, pumps Nikaido's erection a couple times with his still lubed up hand. “Mitsu wants to watch us.” Nika only grumbles something when Senga pulls his hand away, but he doesn't complain since he knows why he's waiting. Senga is opening the bottle of lube again, squeezes some onto his hand to coat his own cock, and he leans back as he does. He leans back, turns his torso towards Kitayama and looks him straight into his eyes as he strokes himself, arm muscles flexing subtly as he does, and Kitayama's hand is no longer on his thigh, it's back around his cock to pull it out of his pants and he doesn't even try to stop it.  
“Want some?” Senga asks then, and Kitayama doesn't get at all what he means because yes, he would definitely bottom for Senga if given the chance but those two are a couple and Nikaido has said explicitly that he won't share, ever. But then Senga tosses something that Kitayama doesn't catch; it hits his leg before it lands on the floor, and he leans down to pick up the lube. Good enough, he supposes, pours some onto his hand then sets it back to work.

That's not the only thing that makes his arousal elevate quickly. He carelessly drops the bottle back onto the floor when he looks up to see Senga pushing inside Nikaido, sees Nikaido flinch at the sound before his hands curl into fists and he lets out a long, slow exhale.  
“Okay?” Senga whispers, a whisper that's only for Nikaido, just like the nod that follows is only for Senga. They kiss for a moment, just a couple seconds, and Kitayama actually looks away from that, closes his eyes and just listen to their breaths and the sound of their lips on each other.

When the sounds cease he turns back; what he sees pushes him towards the edge of his arousal so fast that it scares him. Senga has lifted one of Nikaido's legs, has it hooked over his arm and it makes an ultimate angle for Kitayama. He sees it all, where Senga is pushing back and forth into Nikaido, the muscles in his entire body moving under his skin; how in one way Nikaido looks almost helpless, tied up as he gets fucked, but also how much he's enjoying it. The noises he makes are ones of pure pleasure, although still not particularly loud, and even though it must be pulling on his wrists to do so, he's rolling his hips towards Senga.

But then Senga does something, judging by the movement on his other side Kitayama thinks that he reaches for Nikaido's cock to stroke it. Whatever it is he does, though, it makes Nikaido slip a sound that's less quiet and a little higher than previously, and it doesn't stop. It's ridiculous how it is so close to what Kitayama had imagined, and just because it is, it's also ridiculously good. Something tightens inside him at the sound of it, then his hand squeezes tighter around his cock and on the up stroke he feels himself leak onto his finger; spreads the pre-come over the head of it and doesn't try to hold in the moan that comes with it.  
“You think he'll come before you?” Kitayama hears the words but at first doesn't know who Senga is talking to; then he throws a glance over his shoulder and it comes clear that he was talking to Nikaido. “He's almost fucking his own hand.”

When Senga says it, Kitayama realizes that it's not just his hand moving, he's moving towards it too and he has been too focused on the couple in front of him to really think about it.  
“Touch me more,” Nikaido manages to say then, the first coherent thing he gets out of his mouth in a while. Senga probably doesn't know, but he must have heard Kitayama over the phone earlier, and now he's asking Senga to make him come first. That alone makes Kitayama want to slow down, just watch Senga speeding up as he takes a proper grip around Nikaido's cock, strokes it fast, but when Nikaido's moans start coming regularly there's no doubt he'll be done any moment and it's impossible for Kitayama to not chase his orgasm along with them.

He's so close that when Nikaido finally reaches his climax, the moan he lets out is the last thing Kitayama hears before he tumbles into it himself, eyes shutting tight on instinct. There's a distant groan he barely hears over his own breaths, but as his heart rate slows down he opens his eyes and the first thing he sees is Senga as he pulls out of Nikaido, his stomach tensing in what could be an aftershock from his orgasm; Kitayama feels one of his own when he sees the come that runs out of Nikaido.  
“You plan to go home in those?” Senga asks with a smug face, and Kitayama looks down at his jeans. There are white stains on them, and he knows they won't be easy to get off.  
“Shit,” he says, since it's all he can think of, and Nikaido actually laughs at that. Senga is untying his second wrist when Kitayama looks for something to wipe his hand on; he gets directed to the tissues and then asked to hand Senga a few too. He desperately tries to get the come off his jeans even though he knows it won't be any use, and he hears Nikaido trying to keep his laughter down as he most likely watches. When he gives up he looks up to find that they both have their underwear back on, but Nikaido's hair is messy and he still looks post-orgasmic.  
“Mitsu, take care of him for a moment?” Senga says then, pulls his hand towards Nikaido's wrists; Kitayama gets what's expected of him, yet when he tries to get on the bed he gets stopped.  
“Pants off.” Perhaps Kitayama's confused expression triggers the explanation Nikaido continues with. “I'm not cuddling in bed with anyone wearing jeans.”

For some reason that makes sense to Kitayama, who kicks his jeans off easily since he hadn't even closed them yet, only pulled them back in place, and when he climbs onto the bed Nikaido promptly positions himself with his back to Kitayama.  
“Come here,” he mumbles, pulls him into an embrace, places him between his legs and slides one hand down each of Nikaido's bare arms. The skin is red at his wrists, sore and possibly bruising; he winces a little when Kitayama starts rubbing them, but after a few rhythmical circles with his thumbs he relaxes, leans back against Kitayama's shoulder and just breathes.  
“Did I look good?” he asks after a moment. Probably unaware that Senga is watching them from the bedroom door.  
“Yeah,” Kitayama responds, eyes on Senga. “You saw my jeans, I think that's proof enough.”  
“I guess.” Nikaido sounds tired, and maybe Senga hears it too, because he gets on the bed, in front of him, leans in to press a soft kiss to his cheek.  
“Time to sleep.” Kitayama agrees with that. It's late, very late actually, and he shouldn't let Nikaido fall asleep on his shoulder. There has been an unexpectedly little amount of awkwardness tonight, but if they fall asleep on him, that might be what crosses the line. He's not sure why, but somehow that's what Kitayama's mind tells him.  
“Thanks, or something,” he mumbles, and when he moves Nikaido automatically leans towards Senga instead, lets him move away from behind him. “I didn't think I'd-”  
“You can thank Gaya,” Nikaido smirks, showing off his same old mischievous face, and Kitayama makes a face back at him.  
“Hey, Mitsu, you don't have to leave, you know.” Senga breaks the humorous tension with a serious statement, one that Kitayama knows better than to take for an invitation to more of what has been going on already. “You don't have to waste time in a taxi, just sleep here.” Nikaido nods in agreement, then falls onto his back, eyes closed and ready to sleep.  
“Can we turn off the lights?” he groans, pulls Senga down next to him in a completely contradictory way of action, and what heats in Kitayama's stomach when he sees them is not arousal. It's also not something he feels like he needs to be a part of, and he decides what to do next based on that.  
“I'll take the couch.” He bends down to get his jeans, turns the lamp on the bedside table off as he leaves the room, the two soft voices telling him goodnight lingering in his mind and he sleeps well that night, comfortable on the couch of Senga's living room.


End file.
